


Stalker-Crush

by entomology



Category: Everyman HYBRID, Slender Man Mythos
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Disability, Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, M/M, OC/Canon, Original Character-centric, Romance, Slenderverse, Slow Burn, Stalking, hes a creep, im sorry i have a fucked up oc, its sfw theres like. nakedness once but its not sexual, uhhhh ill think of more later, we love normalizing things from our lives via self indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entomology/pseuds/entomology
Summary: The main timeline of my awful OC/HABIT thing.Talon stalks and pursues HABIT for years. Gets caught. He thinks it's fucking hilarious, given who he is. They're both terrible people and that makes it work i think.Slow build to romance on HABIT's end, Talon's already intense cause that's why he's here, we have funBad comfort fic is the only thing keeping me out of a psych ward im sorry emh guys
Relationships: HABIT/OC, HABIT/Talon
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	1. Here at last

**Author's Note:**

> This one's gonna be lengthy, gentlemen, i'm indulging and writing out the whole.. base canon for my dumb oc  
> Anyways more chapters soon i have. so much writing. but i'm rushing to post this and go atm ITHRGIO

He found it. After all these years, he _finally_ found it.

The sick man crawls towards the house, his legs too damaged to carry him upright anymore. Long, dirty, matted ginger hair drags on the ground around him like an overgrown lion’s mane, collecting leaf litter. Small clumps of moss and algae have begun to take root at the bottom, where it’s always dragging over wet ground. It never dries anymore.  
But at least it provides something close to camouflage- or if nothing else, it’s almost interesting to see his own hair turning into its own ecosystem. The concept of “gross” is lost on him now. It has been for quite some time.

He peers through the window, and no one is home.  
…. He’s almost disappointed- but maybe this is an opportunity. What would he do, anyways, if he found who he was looking for? The demon who graces every one of his dreams lately. It would be a quick introduction, and.. He’d die, probably.  
As tempting as that sounds, he has another idea. He can make this last, just a little longer. Just until he’s noticed. Maybe it’s like a game. Maybe he wants to see how long until he’s found.  
He moves.

Long, gnarled nails like claws scrape up the side of the house as he hoists himself up to the window.  
It seems luck is on his side, because when he pushes it, it opens.  
It makes sense. Demons probably don’t worry about home invaders.  
He slides in, and it’s almost overwhelming. It’s just like the videos, isn’t it? He takes a moment, just to look around, drink in every little detail- the layout, the furniture, the smell, his love’s belongings strewn about….  
He never thought he would get there.

Slowly, he gets up again, and begins to search. Every room is looked through, every detail mentally noted, saved away forever, or at least until his memories are stolen from him again.  
He reaches the room his beloved sleeps in. He can’t stop himself from climbing up on the bed. It’s been so long since he’s been inside a building. The sheets are soft. A little dirty and blood-stained, sure, but why should he care? So is he.  
As he surveys the room once more, he notices dirty clothing carelessly tossed on the floor, no doubt worn by the man of his dreams.  
Jackpot.  
He slides off the bed and takes.. well. A sock will have to do. Can’t get too bold, now, can we? He’d notice.  
….  
Maybe two. Maybe two socks. But that will have to be enough.

Once he has his things, he makes his way back towards the window with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t want to leave, but surely, HABIT will return soon.  
He climbs up and outside.

Up until this point- for nearly a decade- he has lived outside, in the woods. Ever since he was a teenager, chased away from the Faceless. In the hospital, he had nothing. A gown and a bag with his sweatpants and hoodie, and a soft hat left for him by his sister. And so, when he was forced to leave, he left with nothing but one outfit that, by now, was long ruined and tattered beyond repair.  
Not that it stops him from wearing it. What else does he have? Why should he care?

But it dawns on him that now that he’s here, far from his “home” forest, he will need a new place to rest.  
He wanders into the back yard, taking his sweet time strolling (or as much as one can stroll on all fours) through, until he comes to a thicker wooded area behind it.  
Perfect.  
He looks around until he finds a suitable place to crouch for a while- a patch of thick bushes and undergrowth- and he sets up “camp” there, placing down the stolen socks like decorations in a new home.  
He never sleeps that much anymore. It isn’t safe. But he cracks a smile for the first time in years, and he rests, the excitement of the day almost too much to handle.  
It will be fun. And at the end of the game, perhaps he can die happy, at the hands of his true love.  
It’s romantic, isn’t it? That must be what real love is.


	2. Intruder

Little things have been going missing around the house, over the course of a few weeks.  
At first, it was just little things. Socks, used silverware, combs, toothbrushes.. They would’ve been easy to misplace. After all, it’s not as if HABIT really gives a shit about any of Evan’s belongings, even if it’s a little inconvenient.  
But HABIT’s always doing shit, and Vinnie sulks around, and there could be a number of reasons things are going missing. Two men who don’t think through any of their actions, ever, could easily just lose things.

But as he gets dressed today (at the ripe hour of 4 PM, of course), he notices a couple of his shirts have gone missing now, including the Death Proof shirt- his favorite, and his accidental “signature” look.  
And, well, that one can’t be explained.

It isn’t out of the ordinary for various beings to come and go. HABIT is used to these random presences. It doesn’t phase him, and he doesn’t really care. Because he’s him- some sort of god-demon-parasite human fuckup machine, and he has his allies and his pests, and none of this is surprising in the least.  
But _stealing from him_ is a new one. They don’t usually do that, nor do they put this much effort into hiding from him. This is _weird,_ and he plans to figure it out.

It won’t be too hard. Whatever it is, it usually comes in when he’s not around- either “working” (if you consider tormenting people to be work), or getting those rare naps. So all he has to do is wait somewhere out of sight, and let the thief come to him.

He slides into the bedroom closet, and there, he waits.

\----

It takes a while, but finally, he can hear the window pushed open.  
The footsteps are very light, as whoever this is clearly attempts to sneak, but they sound a little clumsy and uneven, coming towards the door in fours.  
Odd.

The door creaks open after a noticeable struggle with the knob, like the one opening it doesn’t really know how, or can’t reach it that well. And in it crawls.

It’s a man- though it takes even HABIT a moment to recognize this thing as a human. There is something so incredibly wrong with it.  
Half of his face is torn wide open, from the corner of his mouth through the cheek, exposing his teeth through the gaping wound. Patches of his skin, where visible, have this strange discoloration, almost like rot. He moves on all fours, with bare feet and tattered, dirty clothes, and long nails that clack along the ground like the claws of a beast. His hair is red, and far, far too long, dragging along the ground around him, weighed down with dirt and moss and some sort of algae growth. He’s _sickly_ thin, and pale enough to look almost like a corpse. He smells like bad meat. Most people would be repulsed, but it’s almost enticing, to a predator.  
What the hell could’ve happened to push a human being this far? The way he behaves is like a wild animal, crawling in on all fours, cautiously looking around as if on alert.  
It’s interesting, if nothing else.

The wildman rifles through HABIT’s laundry, and the demon in the closet has to stop himself from laughing at the complete and utter absurdity of the situation. There are knives, electronics, plenty of valuables for him to take, and he goes after his dirty clothing? Why?  
Shaking hands pick out another shirt- which HABIT recognizes as his haunter shirt- and he’s not gonna let that happen.That’s another favorite!  
He steps out.

There’s no time to react as the intruder is yanked up from the ground, with the cold blade of a knife pressed against his throat. There’s no move to slash it- not yet- but the pressure does cause small droplets to form, slowly dripping down the metal.

There’s a loud, panicked _snarl_ from the intruder- and then he stops, once he recognizes the hands on him.  
He’s been caught. He knows he has. Part of him is sad this will end now, but most of him is absolutely buzzing with excitement, even as blood is drawn. What a beautiful thing. Not only will this existence end, but the love of his life is holding him. It’s more than he could’ve dreamed!  
And his excitement only rises as he’s being carried out of the room, and up to the attic.


	3. Interrogation

He’s being taped down to a chair, and he can hardly hold still as he wiggles in excitement- though it might come off as struggling. It’s just so hard to contain himself- after waiting all these years, they can finally meet, and his fate will be complete.

There are tools in here, which HABIT kicks haphazardly over.  
And then he’s crouching down in front of him, with a sadistic smile plastered across his face and a knife in hand.  
“WELL!  
NORMALLY, YOU’D GET MORE OF A SPEECH, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU. SO I’LL CUT RIGHT TO IT.  
_WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?_ BREAKING INTO _MY HOME,_ STEALING _MY SHIT-_ ”  
He motions with his knife as he speaks, all dramatic emphasis and fake hurt feelings.

The main on the chair tries to shift- tries to move his hands- but they’re tied, and he lets out a noise that kind of sounds like a distressed wheeze.  
“Ca- can’t s- sp- s- ssssorry-”  
There has to be something horribly wrong with his throat. The voice comes out rough, raspy, and broken- almost distorted. It’d be scary, or maybe a little sad, if the one listening to him wasn’t some kind of demon.

HABIT draws this out for a moment by holding a hand up to his ear, with little “COME AGAIN?” and “CAN’T HEAR YOU”s, but he takes pity, because he won’t get any information this way. He’s just an ass to be an ass.  
He cuts the tape trapping the other man’s hands, and he waits.

It seems to take him a moment to figure himself out, but the man on the chair begins to sign to him. The signing is crude and imperfect, with shaking hands and poor memory, but it’s legible, at least.  
Except for the fact that none of what he says makes any sense.  
-Finally meet you. Finally. It has been so long. Fate-

…. Right  
HABIT raises a brow, staring at him like he’s completely insane- which, to be fair, he probably is. That didn’t answer his question, but it created another. He wants to know how much this forest-dweller knows.  
“MMMMHM. ‘FINALLY MEET ME’, HUH? WHO AM I?”

The other man’s face lights up, and he shakily signs -HABIT. Am so happy to meet you-  
So he does know, then.  
…. And that raises even more questions. Who’s HAPPY to meet HABIT? Who sneaks into HABIT’s house if they know who he is? More importantly, why steal his dirty laundry, and utensils, and toothbrushes, and combs-  
….  
Hm.

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME- WHY THE FUCK YOU THOUGHT IT’D BE SMART TO BREAK IN, _HOW YOU FOUND ME,_ AND WHERE YOU HID ALL THAT SHIT YOU STOLE?”

The man looks away as if he’s embarrassed. _Embarrassed,_ in an interrogation. Not panicked. Like a schoolgirl talking to a crush.  
-Was a matter of time. It is fate. Could not.. Help myself. Sorry.-

The lack of an actual answer is met with a slash to the arm. Clearly, he’s avoiding the question. HABIT doesn’t even care that much what the answer is- but the lack of direct answers, and instead getting cryptic bullshit in response, that’s what’s getting on his nerves.

But…. the slash earns a reaction he wasn’t really expecting. There’s a yelp, of course, an instinctual reaction to being _stabbed,_ but what follows isn’t screaming, or crying, or begging- it’s quiet panting, and a very red face. It’s almost pretty, the pink glow on nearly dead flesh.  
Oh wow.

He can’t stop himself from laughing this time, a bellowing cackle that makes him double over, hand to his stomach.  
“WHAT ARE YOU, SOME KIND OF PERVERT? OR IS IT JUST MY _STRIKING GOOD LOOKS?_ "

It’s a Joke, but it doesn’t seem to register as a joke for the flustered man.  
-It is you..-  
Oh wow.  
-I am.. Sorry, sir. Bad at explaining. I have been.. Trying to find you for a while. Stole.. Phones. Found you from the videos and.. And you were just so amazing. I could not wait to meet you-

He wasn’t expecting an answer- especially not THAT. Holy shit. This guy really is fucked in the head.  
He crouches down again, gaze serious. This guy seems like he’s.. Not all there. There’s no point in tracking down specifics right now, with more pressing matters on his mind.  
“UH-HUH. WELL, I AM PRETTY AMAZING.”  
He really doesn’t need an ego boost, but hey! He’ll take it.  
“YOU FOUND THE VIDEOS. YOU _SMELL_ LIKE INFECTION, SO THAT ELIMINATES ONE QUESTION. WHO DO YOU KNOW? ANYONE SEND YOU HERE? POINT YOU MY WAY?”  
His smile is almost friendly, but you’d be a fool to believe it is. There’s a bite to his voice that suggests he isn’t playing.

Thankfully, the man on the chair shakes his head.  
-No, sir. Have been alone for a very long time.-  
…. Yeah, that would make sense, judging by the- well, everything. The total lack of social skills, behaving like some kind of raised-by-wolves story, his slippery grasp on his own language, the whole struggle with the doorknob, the fact that he looks like _that_ …. He believes it.

“AND WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING TO GET OUT OF THIS? YOU HAVE TO ADMIT, PRETTY FUCKING STUPID IDEA TO BREAK IN WHEN _YOU KNOW WHO I AM._ ”

He fidgets again, flustered, and then finally responds.  
-I am sick. Borrowed time. I want you to have the honors. Not the faceless. More deserving of it.. And I know what happens to them. I don’t want it. You can kill me, if you want to. Only wish . for you to have fun with it-  
He bows his head, eyes closed, submitting completely to the known murderer before him.  
-But i will not make this hard for you. You can do what you want with me. It is your choice.. My life is yours.-

HABIT actually has to pause for a moment just to _process_ all of that.  
So, this guy definitely stalked him. And he’s completely obsessed with him. And he was stealing his dirty clothing and things that either had his hair or spit on them. Creepy! And fucking hilarious. It’s hard to even imagine someone knowingly doing that to someone like HIM, and yet, here he is. _Incredible._ He’s having a field day.  
Even more, he’s just…. Submitting to him. Saying all that shit about killing him, willingly throwing his life into HABIT’s hands- that’s SO fucking funny. Bizarre, disturbing, and admittedly, a little charming.

He has two options. He could kill him, like he wants. It’s not gonna be very interesting, though. It’s obvious he won’t resist, and HABIT likes the chase, and the fighting back.  
He could throw him outside, let his “pet” get him or let the obnoxious q-tip claim him- but that’s not really that fun either. He might scream, sure, but what’s in it for HABIT? He’s not exactly on good terms with that thing since the whole severing Firebrand debacle.  
That only leaves option three. Keep him. The idea of stealing from it is HILARIOUS, and, well, this guy seems more entertaining alive than dead.  
After a moment, he finally rolls his eyes, stretches, and starts to cut the tape holding him.  
“NEVER GOT YOUR NAME.”

The man stares in absolute bewilderment as the tape comes undone, but he answers.  
-Talon.-  
It’s clearly fake, but oh well. Maybe he can’t remember, or maybe he doesn’t have a real name. HABIT’ll figure it out later. At least he’s somewhat compliant.  
“WELL, _TALON,_ IT’S YOUR LUCKY DAY. I DON’T FEEL LIKE IT. YOU’RE GONNA BE STAYING HERE, WITH VINNIE. DON’T GO RUNNING! THE RAGING STICK FIGURE WILL GET YOU.”

With a laugh, HABIT pushes him out of the chair, motioning for the poor confused man to follow him downstairs.


	4. New House Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really self indulgent  
> uhhhh shower warning 4 this one ig but its not sexual this is some cathartic coping shit

His heart pounds and his cheeks burn. Staying? He’s staying here? For how long? He can’t go outside, though- how will he-  
….  
Well, he’ll have to talk to HABIT later.  
He understands so little- it’s like a dream come true, and he never wants to wake up, and he clumsily follows him out the small attic door and to the.. Stairs. Right, going down is harder than going up.  
But he doesn’t want to be a problem, so he thinks.

HABIT looks back, and, noticing his apprehension, laughs- but as he opens his mouth to say something rude about it, Talon sits at the top step, and carefully pushes himself down each step.  
“THAT’S ONE WAY TO DO IT. SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR LEGS?”  
Talon nods, patting one of them (which draws a wince, and he stops).  
-This one is worse. But neither are very good.-  
Alright. He’ll bite. As he waits at the bottom for the other man to catch up, he continues on. May as well get some information on whatever the hell he just let in his house.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO ‘EM?  
Talon scrunches his eyebrows, like it’s hard to remember, then finally responds after a moment of his awkward shuffling.  
-They got messed up when he.. When i was younger. I think. Never.. Healed right. Had braces for a long time, but i didn’t have them, when i ran, so,-  
He shakes his head.  
-Got worse out there. Can’t stand-

More questions pile up in HABIT’s mind. He’ll start simple.  
“WHERE’S OUT THERE. WERE YOU IN THE WOODS? KINDA FUCKING LOOKS LIKE IT”  
And Talon nods, making a little “mhm” sound like that’s normal.  
-It found me.. At the hospital, see, and, i had to run. Tried to go home. But-  
He touches the large gash in his face, frowning.  
“BUT WHAT? SOMETHING GET YA?”  
He shouldn’t find this amusing. But he’s HABIT, so of course he does.  
Talon nods again.  
-Attacked. Rake-  
Fair enough.  
“MMMM. GOOD JOB SURVIVING IT.”  
Is that a compliment, or a jab? It could really be either. But Talon smiles brightly anyways.  
“HOW LONG WERE YOU OUT THERE?”  
And again, it seems like he has a lot of trouble remembering this. The extent of his infection is, frankly, horrific. It’s shocking that he’s even alive. He’s losing his memory, he looks bone-thin, and he’s _rotting._ Those little patches around his mouth and fingers aren’t normal, and he smells like it.  
Kinda cool, though.  
-I think.. Since around 2012.. But i am not sure..-  
That’s almost an entire decade. He doesn’t look THAT old- mid 20s, probably- he was a kid when he was chased out there. Impressive that he made it that long, but _Wow._

Finally, Talon reaches the bottom of the stairs, looking up at HABIT with a little victorious smile.  
It’s.. almost cute. In a gross, creepy way.

“SO. WHERE’D YOU HIDE MY STUFF.”  
Talon looks down again, but this time, HABIT does get a straight answer.  
-Backyard. Stayed there..-  
_Oh._  
It catches him a little off guard that all this time, some lovesick stalker creep was hiding out in his backyard, stealing his things.  
“BALLSY, AREN’T WE? PRETTY SMART, THOUGH. HIDING RIGHT IN PROTECTED TERRITORY. MUST BE WHY IT’S BEEN SO PISSED OFF”  
He laughs.  
“IT’LL BE WAY ANGRIER SOON.”  
And with that, he starts off towards the yard, once again motioning for Talon to follow him and bring him to his hidey-hole.

And he does. Outside, Talon crawls in the direction of the thicket, up to a patch of bushes and thick plant growth. When HABIT joins him, it’s…. Honestly kind of impressive, and terrible. Everything is there, arranged like freakish decorations. A _shrine_ dedicated to _him,_ like worshipping a god, or an obsessive fan to a celebrity.  
He stares for a moment, then starts laughing again, which makes Talon’s cheeks flush with embarrassment.  
“HOLY SHIT! I MEAN, ADMIRE YOUR.. DECORATING.. BUT I’M TAKING IT BACK, YOU KNOW.”

Much to his surprise, there’s a little whine beside him. He has SOME will of his own, then. _Good._ More to work with.  
But HABIT doesn’t really care about his complaints. He gathers up the many stolen objects in his arms, and leads the way back in.

HABIT places his things down, and thinks. He’s forgetting something here-  
Ah, right, blood. Blood drenching the other man’s sleeve and staining his floors, and a ghostly appearance on the poor fucker’s face. Right, right, humans keep bleeding if you don’t do anything about it after stabbing them. He’s not really used to sparing people, and he doesn’t die, so it doesn’t come up all that often.  
He’s shaking, but he hasn’t complained at all, which is kind of funny to HABIT. Imagine.

“WE SHOULD PROBABLY DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. AND YOU NEED A FUCKING SHOWER. NOT THAT I CARE THAT MUCH ABOUT SHOWERS, BUT YOU FUCKING REEK. AND, Y’KNOW. THERE’S MOSS IN YOUR HAIR. S’ NOT REALLY SUPPOSED TO BE THERE.”  
He motions again.  
“C’MON.”

Talon follows without argument. He doesn’t really get what’s wrong with the moss, or the way he smells, or how dirty he is, but HABIT is probably right.  
He’s lifted effortlessly onto the counter, while HABIT fumbles with a very dusty first aid kit. Probably says a lot about how often he actually deals with wounds.  
“TAKE OFF THE COAT.”  
And he does- shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor with a sort of gross noise. Yeah that- needs to be washed.  
Underneath is a tattered old hospital gown. Pale, plain blue and loosely tied together in the back. He did mention a hospital, and having nothing on him.  
The wound is- egh. It’s not fatal, but it’s not just a scratch, either. Probably should’ve dealt with that sooner, but, oh well.  
As HABIT presses a rag- wet with disinfectant- to the cut, he continues on with his questions.  
“WHY WERE YOU IN A HOSPITAL?”

Talon flinches briefly at the sting, but forces himself to relax. It’s weird to him that the wound is getting cleaned. He’s never really able to. It’s kind of nice of HABIT, he thinks.  
-Infection. They said it was..-  
He strains to remember again.  
-Acute Radiation Syndrome, and he was going to die. But i am still here.-  
There he goes again with that “he” thing. It seems like he says that a lot, in reference to his past self. Hmm.

“WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING THAT?”  
-Saying what-  
“‘HE’. YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF, AREN’T YOU”  
Talon looks uncomfortable, and he takes a long moment to respond.  
-It is complicated. Easier. He is gone, and I am here. All that matters.-  
…. Okay. That kind of hits him like some sort of trauma thing, or a delusion, or both, but whatever. Noted.  
HABIT shrugs it off, because it doesn’t really matter. It’s just kinda funny to see how strangely human brains can react to things. Like fabricating an entirely new persona in response to what he can only guess is some sort of horrible life circumstance. It’s weird! But it’s interesting.

With the cleaning finished, he decides to give it a good couple of stitches. You know. Just to hold that thing closed. Don’t want this guy just dying without him doing anything, right?  
Right.  
He’s so pitiful and pathetic he looks like he could keel over any moment and that’s no fun.  
That’s all.

Talon is surprisingly good at holding still, even if he does dig his absurdly long nails into HABIT’s arms a little in the process.  
This only really gets a laugh from HABIT, though.  
With the stitches done without major drama (aside from a couple of scratches, but he’s had worse), HABIT points towards the shower.  
“GET YOURSELF CLEANED UP BEFORE WE PUT A BANDAGE ON THAT THING. I DUNNO WHERE THE FUCK YOU’VE BEEN, AND SEPSIS ISN’T MY PREFERRED MURDER METHOD.”

Talon looks at the shower, then back at HABIT with probably the most anxious expression he’s ever seen. He shrugs and steps out of the room, leaning on the wall outside.  
….  
But the sound of water doesn’t come, not for a really long time. There’s a lot of confused, clumsy fumbling, and then a yelp when the water finally starts.  
Christ, what could it be? What’s the problem here?

He steps in to find Talon very much not in the shower, and seemingly kind of afraid of it. He’d honestly been curious how far this “wild animal” thing goes, but he hadn’t even really thought about his new guest’s grasp on appliances. Unless this is some sort of trauma garbage. Could really be both.

With a roll of his eyes, he realizes this isn’t going to be as easy as he thought. He’s dealing with someone who hardly remembers life inside a building, and can’t seem to remember how to do a lot of things. If even door knobs were hard, a shower’s probably complex and weird to jump right back into.

“TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES.”  
Talon doesn’t even really seem to question that. His concept of many social things is long gone.  
At least that makes it easier. A body’s a body, he doesn’t really care that much either.  
With the clothes gone, the extent of the damage is a lot easier to see. Useful, but a little horrifying. He’s skin and bones, like he’s been starving for a long time. Large patches of flesh look dead, and deep claw-scars are visible on his stomach, arms, and legs, no doubt from his “favorite” freak of nature.  
He’ll question all that later. Better to get this done fast.  
“IN THE SHOWER.”

Talon hesitates, but he stumbles in after a moment, pulling his knees to his chest.  
And so, HABIT just sorta dumps some shampoo on his head, grabs the shower head, and sprays him down.  
He makes some faces at it, but seems to calm down and enjoy the warm water after a few minutes. Not that bad.  
His hair looks even longer wet, and it drapes over his face like a wet dog, or a ghost. HABIT laughs, and he laughs a little bit too. It’s _almost_ nice, but Talon’s laugh is a horrific, shredded, broken sound.  
Maybe HABIT finds it a little endearing. But he wouldn’t say that out loud. Instead, he laughs harder.

“PROBABLY AS GOOD AS WE’RE GONNA GET. OUT”  
Talon climbs out and HABIT throws a towel at him, probably with a little too much force, earning a little “uff-” sound.  
He wraps the towel around himself, and HABIT gets to work wrapping some gauze around his arm.  
Not the most thorough shower- but it’ll do, for now. It’s definitely more clean than he’s been in a long time, even if there’s still a good amount of plant in his hair. It feels kinda nice.  
Once he’s dry, he tries to pull his clothes back on, but HABIT takes them from him, and disappears off somewhere.  
He’s kind of just left there for a little while, very confused and without direction, but HABIT’s back after a bit and his clothes look a little bit better. Still torn and stained, but they aren’t soggy and musty and actively covered in mud anymore.  
“DON’T GET MOLD ON MY COUCH. FUCKING GROSS.”


	5. Settling in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been so kind!!!! you guys r the greatest........... ;v;!!

Dressed and marginally less mud-caked and gross, Talon gets back up.  
HABIT looks him over, hands on his hips. The shower did very little to make him less…. “Horror movie”-esque, but he doesn’t look like he’ll ruin furniture just by existing anymore, and that’s good enough. HABIT’s standards aren’t exactly high.

“BETTER.” _Kind of._ With his classic grin, HABIT turns, leading the way back out.  
Talon follows him on instinct now. He hasn’t been excused and, well- this is still really like one big dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. He isn’t sure what will happen anymore, but it’s exciting nonetheless.

He’s brought to the living room, where HABIT not-so-gracefully drops himself on the couch, feet kicked up on the nearest table. And then the TV is on, and there’s some old horror movie playing.  
Talon sits on the floor, looking up at him. All of it is confusing. Why is it so normal?  
The things HABIT is bothered, or not bothered by, is a guessing game. Apparently stalking and theft isn’t something he cares that much about-- although, in fairness, he’s a serial killer demon who could snap this guy like a toothpick if he so chose, so maybe he just isn’t all that threatened by crime.  
Fair enough.  
On the other side, HABIT thinks this strange, bold display of obsession is both incredibly funny, and respectable. The man knows what he wants! And he hunted down and stalked a murderer over it! He can’t think of anything dumber or more hilarious than that, and he’s not about to put an end to it.

HABIT glances over at him, raising an eyebrow.  
“WHY ARE YOU ON THE FLOOR?”  
Talon just sort of tilts his head like the question is lost on him.  
He snorts.  
“I KNOW I’M PRETTY TERRIFYING- BUT YOU CAN SIT ON THE COUCH. I DON’T CARE.”  
That one clicks, at least.  
Talon’s eyes widen a bit, and he scrambles his way up onto the couch.  
He sits…. Pretty close to HABIT, staring at him with big eyes. There’s really no subtlety with him, is there?  
It’s weird being on a couch again, though. He’s been on bare forest floor for years, and even while he’s been here, he’s just slept in some shrubs. The soft cushions, even in their sort of beat-up condition, are a luxury to him, and he can’t help but melt against them a little. It’s so much more comfortable _here_ than _outside._

HABIT continues to watch his movie, though he casts some curious looks back at the stranger sitting with him now and then.  
“BETTER THAN PINE NEEDLES, HUH?”  
Talon nods.  
It’s so funny how little his point of reference for anything is. Surely he had a more normal life at some point, but with years of isolation in the woods, and memory damage from everyone’s favorite stickman- it’s almost like the most mundane things are new to him, and it’s funny how excited he gets over it.  
It’s _almost_ cute. Almost.  
“SLEEP WHEREVER. YOU CAN HAVE A ROOM IF YOU REALLY WANT, BUT I CAN’T PROMISE YOU’LL BE ABLE TO KEEP TRACK OF IT”  
A house in some sort of flux is hard for most people to deal with, let alone someone who barely knows how to operate a doorknob. Maybe best to stick to the “easy” places.  
“I’M NOT GIVING YOU A FUCKING TOUR, BUT I’M GONNA TAKE A WILD GUESS AND SAY _THAT’S NOT A PROBLEM FOR YOU._ FIND YOUR OWN WAY AROUND.”  
Only fair to make fun of your stalker.

Talon nods once more, scooting just _slightly_ closer, in hopes he won’t notice.  
-Yes, sir!-  
HABIT can’t help but chuckle under his breath at the “sir”. For some woodsman stalker freak, he uses very “polite” words when talking to HABIT. As if he’s some sort of authority, like a boss, or a celebrity, and not…. A murderer. A lot of things Talon does, or has done thus far, don’t really make any sense in the presence of a murderer.  
Maybe it’s because he’s crazy, or maybe there’s something else going on. It isn’t _naivety-_ the interrogation was a crystal-clear picture that he knows exactly what he’s dealing with. So why does he act like that?  
Questions to file away for later. Right now, he’s pretty content with the guts and gore on TV.

As the night goes on, Talon oh-so-sneakily inches closer- little by little, in the moments HABIT isn’t looking at him. This goes on until they’re _right_ next to each other, nearly touching. HABIT, of course, casts him a look once he notices. It holds some level of danger, though he makes no move to stop him- not yet. He’s curious as to what this little freak plans on doing here.  
But he’s met only with more staring, from those big, pale, almost unsettling eyes. Unsettling to anyone else, maybe. Fox-like and piercing and _hungry._

Which reminds him.

HABIT lifts himself up, spine popping obnoxiously loud as he does, twisting around just to make it worse.  
He heads off to the kitchen, and comes back a few moments later with half a microwaved pizza, dropping it on the table and pulling off a slice for himself.  
He eats his pizza in silence for a few minutes, before cocking a brow in Talon’s direction.  
“NOT A FAN OF PIZZA?”

Talon looks a little surprised- for some reason, he’d just been waiting for some direction to eat. He’s fed himself (poorly) in the woods for years, but.. this is _His_ house, and _His_ food.  
-I don’t remember.-  
That’ll never not be strange, in HABIT’s professional opinion. This guy’s a fucking trip. It’s fun.  
He shrugs and motions at it.  
“DON’T GO STARVING YET.”  
He jabs at Talon’s ribs for emphasis, laughing. Rude.  
And yet, Talon’s response is to blush, and grab a slice of pizza- which he immediately wolfs down with all the grace of a ravenous dog, _much_ to HABIT’s delight.  
This time, he laughs much harder, genuinely amused.  
“FUCKING NASTY! DO IT AGAIN.”  
And he does. He eats a _LOT_ like an animal, quick and violent and sloppy. This is the best thing HABIT’s seen in years. His cackling grows louder, and there’s a groan from the other room.  
Looks like their other “roommate” is trying to sleep.  
Unfortunately for him, HABIT just gets louder in response.

“NICE. BUT WATCH ME.”  
And he shoves an entire piece of pizza in his mouth, swallowing it with the most sickening choking sounds, like his vessel wants to reject it but HABIT himself forces it down.  
That’s disgusting. Talon claps, though, eyes wide and awestruck.  
-That’s so cool..-

HABIT bows.  
“THANK YOU. I KNOW.”

He turns back to the movie, finishing off the rest of the unevenly heated half-pizza.  
One movie turns into another, and Talon excitedly watches them, marveling at the bad, aged gore effects he hasn’t seen in so many years.  
For the first night in nearly a decade, he isn’t caked with mud. For the first night in nearly a decade, the ground isn’t a cold, wet forest floor, and while he isn’t “safe”, not really, he’s safe from _It._  
It isn’t long before his eyelids become heavy, and he slips in and out of some uneasy rest, twitching and stirring at random.  
But it’s still probably the best he’s gotten in years.


	6. Meet the roommate

A yell breaks the silence of the morning.

HABIT had simply gone to his room at some point, off to do his own things, maybe even rest up, leaving the “guest” on the couch. It isn’t that hard to guess why there’s yelling, but he’ll still investigate it.

He gets up, walking out to the living room and leaning on the doorway.  
Vinnie stands near the coffee table, glaring down at the figure beneath it.  
Once he realizes HABIT’s there, though, that pathetic act of his is back, and he points his camera at him.

“What the hell is that??”  
“MY GUEST.”  
“Where’d you FIND it?”  
“THAT’S THE THING! HE CAME TO ME!”  
“He- it what?”

HABIT laughs, motioning down at the hiding huddle of red hair.

“FOUND THE LITTLE FUCKER THAT’S BEEN STEALING SHIT! HE BROKE IN. HE LIKES ME.”

Vinnie stares at HABIT in disbelief, looking back at the monster under the table.

“And you’re just- gonna keep it? Is that a good idea?? What IS it?”  
“HUMAN- I THINK. JUST _REALLY_ FUCKED UP.”  
“HABIT, this is- this seems like a really bad idea-”

As the camera pans back over to Talon, he noticeably shuffles back further in his hiding space, teeth bared like a scared animal. The sound that comes of him is reminiscent of a snarl, and his hair falls over his eyes in attempts to obscure his face.  
Camera shy, huh?

“AWWWW. HE’S HARMLESS! JUST A LITTLE STALKER.”  
“A little- a STALKER- incredible, just incredible, what the fuck is wrong with you? How did he get here?”  
“I DUNNO! I DON’T THINK HE REMEMBERS.”

Talon continues to growl, and Vinnie looks between the two of them in utter horror.  
“I’m not getting trapped here with some- whatever that is- HABIT what a-”  
Funny as this is, HABIT’s patience is beginning to run thin.  
“- YOU’RE GONNA PLAY NICE WITH YOUR ROOMMATE. HE’S STAYING. WATCH HIM WHILE I’M OUT, I DON’T THINK HE, UH-”  
He motions  
“REALLY “GETS” HOW A LOT OF SHIT WORKS. DON’T LET HIM GET HIMSELF KILLED OR FUCK UP THE HOUSE.”

HABIT pulls a wide, deceptive grin as he looks at Vinnie, unbothered by the presence of a camera. If anything, it only amps him up.  
“GOT IT?”  
Vinnie scoffs, shaking his head.  
“This is ridiculous, what do i do?”  
“TREAT HIM LIKE A ROOMMATE WHO DOESN’T KNOW WHAT ANYTHING INSIDE A HOUSE IS. THIS GUY KNOWS, LIKE-”  
HABIT looks over at him, and at the plants in his hair. Vinnie tries to show it on camera, but only catches a split second of him before he shrinks back again with some sort of rough “hissing” sound, drawing a weird little “eeuw” from Vinnie.  
“- TREES. HE’S NOT STUPID, JUST NOT ALLLL- THERE.”  
He grins.  
“YOU CAN TALK TO HIM, YOU KNOW!”

Vinnie looks back at him, shaking his head. He’s still not convinced this thing isn’t some weird monster.  
HABIT, of course, laughs. He just thinks it’s funny to make Vinnie uncomfortable, really.  
“YOUR LOSS! COULDA FINALLY MADE SOME NEW FRIENDS. YOU’RE A LITTLE LOW ON ‘EM RIGHT NOWWWW..”  
He makes a little “:/” face of fake-sympathy, then it’s right back to laughter, and, deciding the conversation is over, he continues on to the kitchen for what will undoubtedly be some awful breakfast choices.

Vinnie is left alone with his camera and whatever this “thing” is. He lets out a deep sigh.  
“Great. I’m going to die here.”  
He finishes out with some depressing words, then shuts off his camera and sits down on the couch, still eyeing the hiding figure suspiciously.

Sorta freaky looking, hidden away from him, though his eyes now show as he watches Vinnie right back. It seems like, for whatever reason, he’d hidden his face as best he could on camera. Without the camera, he’s a little less terrified. He seems sort of curious, though his guards are still up, and sudden moves cause him to duck back again.

The silent staring competition lasts for a little while, then HABIT’s back with toaster waffles smothered in.. just about everything he could find in the fridge. Ew.  
HABIT looks back down at Talon as he eats his terrible meal, then pats the couch.  
It takes him a good few minutes- but finally, he pulls himself out from under the table, once again scrambling up on the couch.

To Vinnie’s complete and utter amazement, this _creature_ hides on the other side of HABIT, watching him nervously, eyes darting over to the camera now and then.  
Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  
HABIT’s a violent murderer. Vinnie’s an..  
Innocent.. “Victim”. He hasn’t done anything.  
That’s the image of himself he shows to the public, at the very least.  
Vinnie’s a normal human being. Not a demon, not possessed. How does this make any sense? Shouldn’t Talon hide from HABIT? Not him?  
He sighs once more, getting up for coffee. He hates this, but what is there to do about it? That’s been his approach to a lot of things. Seems to do wonders, really.  
As he walks back into the living room, he sees his strange new roommate watching morning cartoons in awe, and HABIT laughing under his breath.  
…. Probably at him. Because he’s forgotten what cartoons are like. Nothing about this is cute. Nothing.

HABIT slides him a disgusting waffle, and Talon eats it like some kind of animal, much to Vinnie’s dismay. He almost drops his coffee sitting down, face curling in disgust.  
“You’re sure that thing’s human?”  
“.... PROBABLY!”  
Whether he isn’t sure or he just wants to get under Vinnie’s skin remains a mystery.

HABIT has decided Talon is extremely funny to have around, though. He’s a weird creep, he doesn’t know how to operate any modern appliances, he’s absolutely astounded by shitty cartoons, and he scares Vinnie. What more could you want? This is fun. He could justify keeping this one around a while, he thinks, as he slides him more gross waffles.  
He also eats things he’s given without complaint. Maybe it’s the lack of regular food for a while, or starvation-  
But come to think of it-  
What did he eat out there? How long has it been?  
Because it seems like he just keeps eating, like he isn’t full. Like something isn’t satisfied.  
He studies the gross man out of the corner of his eye while he eats, and he puts his feet back on the table.  
Hm.


	7. Strange addition.

The rest of the meal is spent with Vinnie casting disgusted looks at the two of them, gagging as the terrible thing possessing his friend, and the terrible thing that’s been taken into their house after it STOLE from them and STALKED someone, share freezer burnt toaster waffles smothered in things that should never go on waffles. He hates this. These things don’t just happen to normal people.

Talon has once again inched himself up close to HABIT as they watch the cartoons, and HABIT, much to Vinnie’s surprise, doesn’t stop him. It’s clear he’s _watching him_ , but he doesn’t move him.  
It’s weird to see HABIT seeming to “click” with someone. He isn’t sure if this is some manipulative con or if he genuinely likes him. HABIT is…. A pretty awful person- being? But manipulation isn’t his typical style. He doesn’t _need_ to. It would be pointless and weak compared to his normal methods. Jokes about being Evan, or being on your side when he clearly isn’t, sure, but he’s a lot more blunt about what he’s going to do. He wants you to know the danger you’re in, and that’s terrifying. He’s like a slasher from an old horror movie.  
So what is he doing?

The rest of the day is mostly like that. HABIT showing this very confused, very amazed wild thing cartoons and gory movies, and Vinnie quietly studying them, with sparse rude comments and faces.  
Though it seems like as the night goes on, that “thing” looks more tired, more pale, almost dizzy and clumsy.   
Vinnie can’t help but notice how its eyes lock on him now and then- hungry, locked on his throat, like some kind of predator stalking prey.  
That’s definitely not helping. He can feel his skin crawl under that creepy gaze that burns into him.  
He tries to ignore it.  
What does that thing eat?

It gets late enough, finally, that Vinnie feels like he can excuse himself. He’s had quite enough of the two of them by now, and he wants to get as far away as possible.  
“I’m gonna- i’m gonna go to bed now. Have a good, uh-”  
He doesn’t even finish the sentence, leaving off with a sort of disturbed grimace.  
And off he goes.

HABIT laughs as he leaves, turning back to Talon with a grin.  
“WHAT A PUSSY. PARTY DOESN’T HAVE TO END YET, THOUGH!”  
He sticks his tongue out, turning back to the TV and putting on yet another bad horror movie. He’s got nothing else to do, not right now.  
And it’s almost comfortable.  
….  
Not that that matters. 

Talon leans closer, a little smile on his face. They’re almost touching. Almost, almost. This close, he can feel the heat of HABIT’s skin. He can smell him. He smells like blood and sweat. He smells like violence and magic. He smells like pizza.   
Talon is so dizzy. He can’t tell if it’s the excitement or because he’s starving, quietly. He’s too embarrassed to bring it up. He doesn’t want to bother anyone. But right now he feels heat dancing in his cheeks and swelling in his chest, and he’s so happy he doesn’t even want to move. 

HABIT doesn’t say anything, or give an indication that he notices. But he does, of course he does.  
Talon is so cold. Talon smells like old roadkill and pine needles. He smells like rancid meat and mud. He smells like earth. Like metal and like soil. Like prey.

They watch their movie, making joke comments. Every now and then, HABIT will say something threatening in reference to the movie, things about what he could do to him, with a little flash of his teeth.  
And Talon is never scared away. All he does is giggle and play along.   
And it isn’t what he’s supposed to do. He’s supposed to be scared. He’s supposed to cower away.  
And he knows.   
And HABIT knows.   
And neither of them say a word about it.


	8. Cannibalistic survival mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon is Delusional and Traumatized: a novel by me

The next morning, there isn’t a yell, but Vinnie is still disturbed by the new presence, skirting around him with that same grimace on his face.  
Talon looks especially sick and dizzy today. A little slower to react, a little more clumsy. It seems kind of like he doesn’t have much energy to move, or to do anything.  
He sits curled up on the couch, watching. His stomach growls, but he isn’t sure if anyone hears it, or if it’d matter anyways.

Vinnie pointedly sits very far away from him. He has his camera again, and he monologues to it, all about how terrible and scary this is. All about how it’s bullshit, and how he’s afraid.  
HABIT comes in just a little while into this, and Vinnie points the camera at him.  
As the lens is pointed around, Talon attempts to scramble for a hiding place again-- but he promptly collapses on the floor.

His face feels hot and cold as he lays on the floor, eyes and camera lenses pointed towards him. He tries to cover his face, letting out some small, broken growl for the camera to go away.

A hand grips the back of his shirt, yanking him back up to the couch. His face is pale and he looks sick and tired.

“JESUS CHRIST. FUCK WAS THAT?”

Talon flushes, immediately signing sloppy apologies.  
-Sorry. Sorry. Just.. hungry-

HABIT raises a brow, looking at him in both confusion and amusement.  
“YEAH, BUT, UH- IT’S BEEN ONE NIGHT. THAT’S SOMETHING YOU SEE AFTER DAYS”

He frowns, looking down.  
-Sorry, sir.-  
HABIT shrugs, pulling out his phone to order another pizza.  
“WHATEVER. MORE PIZZA FOR ME! JUST, FUCKING. LAY THERE, I GUESS”  
He motions at the couch.

-

The pizza arrives shortly. There’s a knock on the door, and Talon jolts up from his position, eyes locking on the door.  
HABIT opens it. He grabs the pizza, going on some rude rant, but then there’s clumsy, uneven scrambling on the floor. A flash of red hair shoves HABIT aside, and like a beast, jagged teeth clamp down on the leg of the delivery man before there’s time to process what’s happening.

The man yells, and the jaws clamped around him roughly jerk his leg out, knocking him down.  
The _beast_ is on him in seconds, long-nailed fingers trying to pin him and teeth ripping at flesh. It doesn’t seem like he even hears the screams, or if he does, he doesn’t react. It’s like he isn’t there, like Talon is somewhere far away and this is a hungry, desperate monster who can only act on instinct. Who only knows instinct.  
The screams cut off when teeth cut into his throat, and Talon starts to eat him. Raw. No utensils, no preparation, he doesn’t even use his hands. Teeth against bare human skin, tearing the corpse apart.

Vinnie records all of it, yelling and panicking about the horror- about how he knew this thing couldn’t be human, and what the fuck is he doing, oh my g-d, what the hell, what the hell, what the-

HABIT just laughs, setting the pizza down and clapping as he walks closer to Talon and his grisly meal.  
“COULDN’T WAIT ‘TIL I GOT THE PIZZA OUT, HUH? OR IS THE RAW HUMAN FLESH MORE APPETIZING THAN PEPPERONI?”

Talon turns to look at him, with a face covered in viscera. He looks like a monster, or a wild animal, with the way the blood matts his hair and the way little clumps of flesh hang from between his jagged teeth.   
His stare is blank for a moment, then he’s blushing, embarrassed.  
He manages a shaky -sorry-.

“HEY, HEY, NEVER ASKED YOU TO APOLOGIZE! FUCK, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO? LITTLE CANNIBALISM NEVER HURT ANYONE-”  
He pauses, looking down at the body.  
“.... WELL. EXCEPT FOR _HIM._ GOT SOME QUESTIONS, THOUGH!”

Talon swallows, but nods. He doesn’t bother to wipe the gore off his face. It’s like he doesn’t notice it. It’s been so long since he’s had any reason to clean up. He just rinses off in the river when it gets uncomfortable.

“GREAT! THERE’S A GOOD SPORT. COME ON BACK IN HERE, DON’T GO FREAKING OUT THE NEIGHBORS.”  
His smile is wide and overjoyed. Everything about this is just too much. A stalker, a thief, and a CANNIBAL? This is a treat.  
He looks around, grabbing the body by the foot and dragging it inside. Apparently we aren’t worrying about blood.

Once inside, he shuts the door, turning to Talon and putting his hands together with an expectant look.  
“CARE TO EXPLAIN? I MEAN- I THINK IT’S GREAT. BUT HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS HAPPEN, BUDDY? I INVITED YOU IN AND I’M FEELING A LITTLE LEFT IN THE DARK!”

He crouches down to Talon’s level, eyes piercing into him. He has nothing against it, it’s absolutely delightful. But with a stranger in his house, it seems reasonable to wonder what the _hell_ he’s hiding.

There’s a moment of fidgeting before Talon responds.

-I got hungry. In the woods. Berries weren’t enough. Already had to kill to keep the faceless away. So.. why waste? It didn’t care if . pieces were missing.-

Vinnie gags, and Talon hides his face from him and his camera.  
HABIT mulls this around in his head, his smile only growing wider.  
“AND YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE, Y’KNOW, BIRDS OR SOME SHIT? STRAIGHT TO PEOPLE? WHY?”  
Humans don’t normally just make that call without some reason. Generally, it makes them pretty sick.

-Couldn’t do it. They did nothing to deserve it. Not fair. But _They_ are all murderers. He is gone. They deserve it. They killed him-

Wow! Another nonsensical sentence that leads him to believe there’s some weird little delusion going on here. He just says “hmmmm”, like he’s thinking about it.  
“THE WAY YOU DID IT WAS PRETTY FUCKING IMPRESSIVE, I’LL GIVE YOU THAT. HOW DID YOU- WHY DO YOU-”  
He rolls his eyes, fed up with trying to ask this in some sort of polite way, like some therapist.  
“FUCKING CUT TO IT AND TELL ME WHAT’S UP.”

Talon sighs, looking away.  
-I don’t know. Need to eat it. Don’t.. Think i can survive without it. Has been like this for a long time-  
He scratches his arm.  
-Other food doesn’t help. It doesn’t stop. Always hungry-

…. Huh!  
HABIT gets up, circling Talon, low and predatory.  
Then he tousles his hair, drawing an odd, purr-like sound from the strange man.  
“FUCKIN WEIRD! MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE AHHHH- OVERGROWN Q-TIP.”  
He stands back up straight, hands folded behind his back, thinking.  
“Y’KNOW- I THINK I CAN WORK WITH THAT.  
YEAAH, YEAH, THIS IS GREAT! FREE BODY DISPOSAL. DON’T EVEN HAVE TO DO ANYTHING.”  
Not that he needs an excuse to murder more people, but he’ll still happily take it.

Vinnie scoffs, looking at them both in horror.  
“This is fucking insane- you’re both crazy- HABIT, he’s gonna fucking bite someone or something-”  
“NOT IF HE’S FED! IT’S LIKE A TIGER”  
Bad analogy, HABIT, tigers often attack their handlers.  
He looks down at Talon.  
“YOU WON’T EAT VINNIE, RIGHT? AS FUCKING _HILARIOUS_ AS THAT’D BE, THAT’S MINE.”  
Talon shakes his head.  
-Don’t think so. Can’t.. usually think. But respect him. Will do my best-

Vinnie does not find that very promising at all. HABIT laughs.  
“SEE? IT’LL BE FIIIINE.”  
Vinnie shakes his head.  
“This is crazy. I’m gonna die.”  
“AW, YA WHINY BITCH.”

HABIT lifts Talon’s blood-stained self back onto the couch with very little effort. Apparently blood is fine, but not mud or mold. Okay.  
He drags the body back to the kitchen, and, judging by the sounds, has apparently just decided to cut it apart.  
Vinnie audibly gags again, this time sitting down with his hand over his mouth. That’s disgusting.  
Talon, on the other hand, seems delighted, licking blood off his fingers as he resumes watching the TV.  
This is okay, he thinks.  
This really is ideal, in a way- no one _normal_ would be okay with the way he is. Talon isn’t a good person. He isn’t some innocent bystander, cluelessly pulled into this. He’s a bad person who went out of his way to chase down a murderer. He himself is a murderer and cannibal. They match, at least in some ways.

This can work.


	9. What happened to Robin Greenfinch?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long to update! i was placed in a psych ward and then needed a while to adjust to new meds and stuff. rough shit.  
> ANYWHO! time for coping content and (rubs hands) ~oc lore~

The morning is new, and Talon sits awake on the couch. Sleep, as it turns out, is rare for him- he seems paranoid all the time, too afraid to sleep. Instead, he often sits there, awake, staring at the windows.

It’s kind of sad, Vinnie thinks. Almost. This guy is a murderer and a cannibal, after all. Maybe he deserves to suffer.  
…. But what does that say about Vinnie? He isn’t innocent.  
He decides not to think about that.

As he steps into the room, camera pointed at the little beast as always, Talon’s head instantly snaps in his direction. He loudly growls, baring his teeth and scrambling for the nearest hiding place (which ends up being the table).  
Vinnie follows him, still trying to get a good look at him. Something. Something to show the channel. Some missing puzzle piece to this whole mess, something to tie this all together.  
This time, he tries getting closer and putting the camera under the table.  
He can see a flash of Talon’s face, and then- a searing pain in his hand.

Like a wild animal, Talon clamps his jagged teeth down on the intruding hand. They tear easily through the skin, drawing blood.  
Vinnie yelps, dropping the camera and pulling back.  
Talon doesn’t let go. It’s some instinct- self defense, tunnel vision, everything in his brain screaming to down the threat. It’s like all those times before, with the masked people who taunted him for years. That’s what he thinks.

There’s a clap from the doorway.

HABIT laughs, strolling over and crouching to look under the table, a smug smile on his face. He places a hand in Talon’s hair, and on Vinnie’s arm. Neither had known he was watching.

“I BELIEVE I ASKED YOU NOT TO EAT MY PREY.”

Talon looks up at him, not responding for a moment, like he’s locked on his target, the smell of blood only driving him further.  
But then he flushes, freezing, and HABIT pries his jaw off of Vinnie’s hand.

“I MEAN- IT WAS INEVITABLE, REALLY.”  
He looks over at Vinnie, still holding Talon by the hair.  
“YOU STUCK YOUR HANDS IN FRONT OF A _MONSTER,_ VINNIE. WHY?”  
Vinnie winces, holding his bleeding hand.  
“I was trying to record things. I don’t know what the fuck that thing is, HABIT, i need answers. He keeps running away, it only raises more questions-”

Talon is shaking, his expression mortified.  
-Can’t show them my face. Can’t. Please-

HABIT raises his eyebrows, and Vinnie looks at him like he’s insane.  
“ _Why??_ I have to record everything, and post. They need to know.”  
HABIT crouches at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. He’s smiling, but his eyes give away danger.  
“DON’T LIE TO ME.”

Talon fidgets for a moment, curling hair around his hands, but finally, he signs.  
-I am legally dead. Don’t.. want to be found. He is gone. Wrong to rob his grave. He stays in Oregon-  
So- back to _this_ weird shit. He thinks his own past self is someone else.  
He’s delusional.  
But he’s probably telling the truth about being legally dead. Out in the woods that long? No one looking? There had to be a reason, and that fits.

“WHO’S GONE. I NEED SOME ANSWERS”

Talon seems to fold in on himself, his panicked face retreating under his hair.  
-Him. He was innocent and they killed him. They killed him. They killed him-  
He keeps signing it on repeat, hands shaking until they don’t make sense anymore.  
Jesus.

“HM.”  
He gets up, shrugging at Vinnie. Best they’re getting, this guy is a trainwreck.  
…. So why was he tempted to stay with him? Keep his hand there until he calmed down?  
Disgusting. No time to think about that. It’s not his problem that his guest is crazy. It’s funny.  
Right?  
It doesn’t feel that funny. Call it an off day.

“POST IT OR DON’T. NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM. YOU HEARD HIM.”  
A smile.  
“SO SHOW HIM WHO YOU ARE, SNAKE.”

With a pat on Vinnie’s back, HABIT leaves the room, taking a beer from the fridge on his way.

That night, Vinnie gets on his computer.  
As the video processes, he decides to do some.. research. Just a little exploring. He has to be missing something, right? This guy can’t just be legally dead without something going wrong. Maybe he got in trouble, maybe he killed someone, who knows. It’s time to find out what monster HABIT’s let into the house.

He tries a few searches. Deaths in Oregon, missing people in oregon, strange events, sightings-  
Of course, Oregon itself is a strange state. He digs for a while, but eventually comes to an interesting article.  
It looks like long-distance trail cam footage of Talon, his limbs bent strangely, crouched over a body. He’s rail thin, and doesn’t have his coat on. He doesn’t look human with the distance and the graininess of the footage, he looks like some monster.  
The title reads “CHUPACABRA SPOTTED IN OREGON?”  
He can’t help but snort at that. Fair.  
He reads on. The article details a “thin, pale, maned creature” attacking hikers at a campground. Other bodies have been found littered across the woods.  
There’s something odd that catches his eye, though-  
“Some theorize this is the creature that killed Robin Greenfinch a few years ago, using its man-eating tendencies to explain investigators never locating the teen’s body.”  
…. Hm.

That’s definitely a lead, if nothing else. He searches the name.  
And many articles pop up. He can’t tell if that’s exciting, or horrifying. He reads through.  
The first reads “Local Teenager Missing from Hospital”  
There’s a picture in here and.. It’s definitely “Talon”. He’s a kid in these pictures, with short hair and bright eyes. There’s no wound on his face, no rot on his skin. He has crutches and leg braces, and a nasal cannula, but somehow he looks better, even as a sick kid.  
It’s.. surreal, to say the least.

“Robin Greenfinch was reported missing this morning after nurses were unable to locate the disabled teenager for vital signs. The family reports a history of erratic behavior and outbursts, claiming he must have found some way to run away. Police are being sent to look for the boy, fearing his unstable condition could be fatal if left untreated for too long.  
With a recent diagnosis of Acute Radiation Syndrome that baffled hospital staff with no apparent source, conspiracy theorists have already begun speculating on what happened. Is it aliens? Or reckless youth? We’ll keep you updated as this story develops.”

He can feel his heart drop. There’s something wrong about this, but he can’t pinpoint precisely what. Does he feel bad? “Talon”, or more accurately, “Robin”, was just some sick kid.  
But he’s a cannibal. And a liar. He lied about his name and all of this shit.  
…. Still, he pushes aside his discomfort to read the next article.  
“Missing Teenager Pronounced Dead, Search Parties Called Off”  
Oh.  
There’s another picture, one of a sadder, sicker Robin, who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, but was still unmistakably a sick and scared _kid._

“Search parties for Robin Greenfinch, a local teen reported missing last week, have been called off after police uncovered a grisly scene behind the family’s property.  
Hidden away in the forest surrounding the neighborhood was a shocking amount of blood, along with torn shreds of clothing. DNA tests confirmed the blood belonged to Robin. Though the body remains unfound, local wildlife officials believe this may have been an animal attack, noting the spike in mountain lion activity in recent months.  
Officials stated that this should be a reminder to stay alert and never approach the lions. For more information on defending yourself from wild animals, visit www.vernoniawildlife.org.

The family has refused to comment.”

…. Yeah, that’s a lot to take in.  
Vinnie leans back, sighing and staring at the ceiling for a moment.  
What does he do with this information? Share it? Dig deeper? What else is there to know? Does he _want_ to know?  
..  
He’s always been a bit nosy, hasn’t he?  
He did put cameras in his friends’ houses, after all.  
So he goes deeper into this rabbit hole. With Robin’s real name, it’s easy to find the names of his family. Maria, Joseph, Abigail, and Lucy Greenfinch. He tries searching for them, too.  
Maria and Joseph, who must be the parents, are apparently alive, posting pity-grabbing things on facebook. Great.  
It’s when he gets to Abigail that he digs up a little more.

“Woman Disappears With Young Sister- Suspected Kidnapping”.  
Great. Good start.

“Abigail Greenfinch, a young woman from a small town in Oregon, has disappeared from her family’s home with her 7-year-old sister, Lucy Greenfinch.  
The family reports noticing “strange” behavior from the girl, including looking through her departed brother’s belongings and becoming agitated quickly. They say that they fear she has kidnapped their youngest daughter in an attention-seeking stunt due to the famed death of her younger brother, Robin Greenfinch, a few years back. They claim Abigail has not coped with the loss well, and like her brother, is a “poisoned lunatic set on destroying the family”.  
Conspiracists believe this may all be coming from Acute Radiation Syndrome caused by alien interference. Could they be right? Find out more as we update this story in real time.”  
Each update after that simply describes police looking for her, and not finding her. This is dated two years ago. It seems some search parties continue, but hopes of finding either girl alive have diminished. Conspiracy theorists had made a big deal of the case for a while, using it to explain strange activity in Oregon, but most of the buzz has died out by now. All 3 missing Greenfinch kids just seem to be forgotten.  
But one of them is here, in his house, looking like a corpse and stalking a demon and acting like a wild animal. He bit his hand.  
Something happened. This guy is fucking insane.

Still, this is a lot to take in. Vinnie leans back again, rubbing his head. What is there to do with all this? He almost wanted to have an excuse to distrust him. Talon still isn’t trustworthy, not by a long shot- tragic or not, he still kills and eats people. What _happened?_  
The video sits, ready to upload. He closes the computer.  
He’ll deal with this later. He needs time to think.


	10. Killing Spree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some violence in this one but happy ending. evil men get much needed bonding time

The next morning, HABIT’s once again attempting to make something. Pancakes, probably.  
Talon sits at his feet as he cooks, watching him. He doesn’t seem to care that much, other than cracking some jokes about him looking like some kind of lost puppy.  
After a while, though, he leans down, and Talon is being lifted off the floor and onto the counter.  
He’s confused by the action, but he smiles, singing a little -thank you-.

“CAN’T SEE SHIT FROM DOWN THERE. YOU’D MISS OUT ON MY FUCKING _SKILLS_ ”  
HABIT flips a pancake into the air and catches it on the pan just to make a point. Being ancient means you’ve had forever to learn useless party tricks!  
Talon gasps, eyes wide in awe. He gives a little clap, although it seems sort of messy, like he has to remember how.  
HABIT laughs. It sounds genuine, almost light. It’s _weird_ having someone who just likes him around. It’s weirder that he isn’t sure he wants to ruin that yet.  
Not that he needs to explain himself. He’s an ancient demon, for fucks sake.

He finishes his pancakes (which are a messy abomination of bacon and pancake, because you really can’t expect HABIT to eat like a normal person). As he dishes them out, he pulls a tupperware full of frozen meat from the freezer, handing it to Talon.  
He smiles, pulling it open and instantly stuffing frozen meat in his mouth.  
Gross!  
-thank you.-  
HABIT grins, mouth already full of meat-pancake abominations. “CAN’T HAVE YOU DYING ON ME JUST YET. PLUS! MORE PANCAKES FOR ME.”  
He bangs his fork on the table as some sort of emphasis, but it’s really just loud. That describes a lot of things HABIT does.

The two eat their sort of gross meals. HABIT steals a piece of frozen meat from Talon, who instinctively snaps his teeth at him, only causing HABIT to laugh again.  
“BITING THE HAND THAT FEEDS YOU?”  
He feigns an offended scoff.  
“SO UNGRATEFUL! I CAN’T BELIEVE THE- THE DISRESPECT, THE CRUELTY-”  
Talon worriedly starts to sign his apologies, but HABIT cuts him off.  
“I’M FUCKING WITH YOU. JUMPY!”  
He pokes Talon on the head. This man has no concept of boundaries, but Talon doesn’t either, so he just smiles. It’s more normal than anything has been in so many years.

HABIT gets up, stretching. He peers over at Talon. He seems to consider something for a moment, mulling it over in his head, before speaking again.  
“WANNA HAVE SOME FUN? I WANNA SEE WHAT YOU’VE GOT.”  
Talon eagerly nods, a big smile on his face.  
-Yes! Thank you, sir. Will not let you down-  
He lets out a huffing laugh, pulling the other man off the counter. “Sir.” It’s so foreign.

He walks out the door, but the world changes. It isn’t the backyard, it’s a park somewhere, near what looks like a college. There’s a good handful of people out here. College students studying, or drinking. Stoners, irritating yoga hipsters.. A variety.   
Talon hides his face under his hair, but HABIT shakes his head, squatting down so they’re at the same level.  
“SHOW ME YOUR BEST. DON’T WORRY ABOUT THE COPS.”  
For a normal person, it’d be some form of mental torture. For Talon, it’s an exciting challenge, a chance to prove himself.

It’s just like hunting in the woods. But there’s more chance of others seeing and freaking out.  
He wastes no time, sneaking along bushes until he comes to a group of people drinking.  
Instinct kicks in and he charges, tackling one of them from behind. Long nails and jagged teeth pierce warm flesh. His mind is off. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing, his focus is all on destroying everyone in sight. He loses track of what he’s doing, and of how many people he’s taken down- he’s _weak,_ but he’s ruthless, and the animal-like style of his attacks is what seems to throw them off. He’s hit, he’s kicked, he’s thrown off, and he continues as if his life depends on it- simply pouncing on them again and again no matter how much he’s knocked away, no matter how much it hurts.  
Call it retribution, or call it deranged instinct. It doesn’t matter.

His frenzied fighting only halts with the sound of police sirens and a bottle thrown against him, drenching him in cheap beer and shards of glass. He gnashes his teeth, but stares wildly at the speeding cars.  
He doesn’t have the time or the mindset to process what’s happening, but he knows he’s being held down, he knows his teeth meet intruding hands and there’s a curse and a kick at his side, and then the hands aren’t on him anymore.  
Blood sprays down on him and the bodies of two police officers fall to the ground. There’s laughter, and he’s being picked up with one arm and pulled away, with the body of a cop dragging along with them.  
And then they’re home, and the laughter only gets louder as the dead pig slumps against the floor.

HABIT lifts him up higher, now with two hands, a wide, pleased smile stretched across his face.  
“NICE WORK. YOU GOT A LOT MORE THAN I THOUGHT.”  
He chuckles, and Talon blushes.  
“FUN FUCKER. MAYBE I SHOULD TAKE YOU OUT MORE OFTEN”  
HABIT winks, and Talon’s blush grows darker, his cheeks radiating heat. Was it intentional? Is he messing with him?  
Who knows with someone like HABIT. It’s like he always has a plan, but it only makes sense to him.

HABIT places the roughed-up man on his shoulder.  
“WE SHOULD GET THAT SHIT PATCHED UP. YOUR BONES LOOK EASY TO BREAK.”  
Talon holds onto him, and silly thoughts rush through his head. Why does HABIT care if his bones are broken, or if he has a few wounds? It’s unusual. Maybe he just wants to keep Talon in good condition for some bigger plan.  
…. But that doesn’t stop his mind from wandering.

Talon is once again set on the bathroom counter, his shirt removed to see the damage. There are some nasty bruises and a good few cuts and scrapes.  
HABIT’s hands run along his skin-- he’s not exactly the gentle type, poking and prodding at his arms and ribs. He hears sharp winces as a couple of the ribs are pressed, little tears glossing the other man’s eyes, but he tries his hardest to stay still.  
Talon’s skin is soft and warm, but as HABIT chances a few touches over the discolored patches, those are cold and strangely textured.  
Hm. That’s not a great sign on a living person.  
Not that he cares.  
.. Does he? This is funny, isn’t it? Some weird guy so badly infected he’s rotting? This is fine.

And yet, he wets a cloth with disinfectant, wiping the wounds clean and even trying to clean up the patches, with a short grunt. No stitches needed today, but he bandages them. He’s lost for a moment in fixing up the wounds, and when he recognizes how gentle he’s being, he compensates with another laugh and a mean smile.  
“PRETTY FUCKED UP. YOUR RIBS MIGHT BE CRACKED OR SOME SHIT, I’M NOT A DOCTOR. ICE ‘EM.”  
He roughly pats Talon on the shoulder. And Talon smiles, because the rudeness is lost on him. Typical.

….  
“SO. PORK FOR DINNER?”  
Talon nods, still amazed that HABIT had saved him from the cops.  
-Pork for dinner-


	11. Naps and Internal Dilemmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which HABIT questions himself a little and then ends up napping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER i'm so so sick and the world is in shambles so i've had no energy. anyways fic time because i need comfort and i think we could all use a good laugh at stupid men being stupid

Following dinner, they’d sit on the couch together. It’s still odd to Talon, sitting on furniture, let alone with _HABIT_ , but it’s nice. A good end to an exhausting day.

HABIT is playing video games. Some sort of zombie shooting game he doesn’t recognize, but watches in awe anyways.  
Graphics have come so, so far since he’s been gone. It’s been about a decade since he last had access to any sort of video game. It’s like a complete transformation, and he missed all the steps, so he’s gone from “PETZ CATZ 2” to all the new wonderful games of today, with realistic, fluid graphics. He’ll never be used to it, he thinks.

As he watches HABIT blast zombies in the face, he inches closer- slowly, hardly noticeable, when he thinks HABIT isn’t looking. He cheers quietly, in his broken little voice, each time HABIT gets some sort of achievement or advance in the game, and he keeps on scooting a little closer, until finally they’re almost touching.  
HABIT side-eyes him. Nothing is said. He keeps playing the game and Talon doesn’t move.

Full and warm and happy, Talon starts to doze. As he does, he slumps over against HABIT.

HABIT watches him while he plays. Curiosity gets the best of him, and he doesn’t remove his sleeping houseguest.

It’s very strange, he thinks. How Talon is so comfortable with him, despite who and what he is. How he’s noticed the little _freak_ hardly sleeps at all, but can snooze effortlessly in his presence. Like it’s safer, somehow, when really it should be the exact opposite.

He’s almost cute. The faint little rise and fall of his chest, long hair draped over both of them, big fox-like eyes delicately closed when normally they stare right through him, the way he curls up close-  
He shakes the thoughts from his head. Enough of that. Talon is prey, nothing more. A little experiment on how fucked up a human can be. Just some creature he’s prolonging the life of for his own entertainment.  
(So why does he let him keep sleeping there, against him? Why not torment him, wake him up, shake him, pull his hair, shove him away for daring to touch him?)  
(It doesn’t matter. That’s what he tells himself.)

HABIT turns back to his game. But without much real thought, a hand goes back to run through the sleeping man’s hair- only to earn a cringe from HABIT. There’s so much forest debris stuck in it. He hardly got any out in the short shower he gave him.  
(Why does he want to try again? Do a better job? Surely it’s just for the humiliation of the other man needing help in such a vulnerable state.)  
(No it isn’t.)


	12. It's not so bad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you just gotta approach the guy like you would a raccoon or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry i write like this. don't ask what's wrong with me because i don't know

In the morning, Vinnie steps out into the living room too one of the weirder sights he’s ever been greeted with.  
HABIT had apparently gotten pretty comfortable, because he’s napping, feet up on the table and hat over his face. The game is stuck on a death screen, and Talon is curled up against HABIT.

….  
????

Of all the things Vinnie could imagine, this would not be one of them. He sneaks by, fleeing to the kitchen in hopes of getting some coffee before King Asshole wakes up again.

-

As soon as the coffee maker starts to make noise, HABIT stirs.  
He fell asleep?  
His hand is still tangled in Talon’s hair, and said feral man is sort of cuddled up against him.  
Far, far too domestic. He pushes Talon away a little on instinct, and gets up, stretching with an absolutely _disturbing_ series of bone pops.  
Gross.

Talon wakes up as soon as he’s moved, rubbing at his face for a moment before looking up at HABIT and blushing slightly.  
Did they both sleep out here?  
He’s about to say something, but thinks better of it, instead following HABIT to the kitchen, probably to pick off whatever ends up getting made.

Vinnie looks at them. Should he say something? What he saw was borderline cuddling. They’re both horrible homicidal monsters, though-- who knows what would happen if he commented on the strange shit they do.

HABIT throws some frozen waffles in the toaster and steals the coffee pot from Vinnie’s hands, earning just about the most tired and grumpy sound of protest, but he doesn’t really fight him for it.

“GOT SHIT TO DO TODAY,” HABIT says while pouring obscene amounts of coffee into a large cup.  
“YOU-”  
He points at Vinnie  
“- GET TO WATCH OUR GUEST. MAKE SURE HE ISN’T CAUSING TROUBLE. I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN THE STEALING.”  
He shoots a playful-yet-dangerous grin Talon’s way, but Vinnie looks mortified.  
“You’re- you’re leaving me alone with that thing?? HABIT, it eats people. It bit me”  
Never in his life did Vinnie think he’d _want_ HABIT around, but good fucking lord does he not want to be left alone with some terrifying cannibal monster-man. At least the two kind of keep each other occupied. Aside from having to witness some weird shit, this is the most he’s been left alone since the whole HABIT ordeal began.

HABIT just laughs.  
“NOT MY PROBLEM. READ SOME WILDERNESS SURVIVAL BOOKS IF YOU’RE THAT SCARED. I HAVE BUSINESS TO ATTEND!”

While not scared, Talon looks nervous. His attachment to the entity is no secret, and the prospect of being left without him, even for a while, is daunting.  
He truly has some mental problems.  
Vinnie continues to argue, but he’s cut off by an obnoxiously loud slurping sound from HABIT, and, well, that’s that. There’s really no getting a word in with the demon. He just decides how things will go, and you can either go with it or make it worse for yourself.  
With a defeated sigh, Vinnie finally nods.  
“Fine. Don’t say I didn't tell you if i end up dying.”  
HABIT pats his head, and Vinnie rolls his eyes.  
“GREAT!”  
He slams his cup down on the counter, having already finished the full cup of piping hot coffee without waiting for it to cool in the slightest.  
“I’LL BE GOING, THEN. GET ALONG, YOU TWO. NO PARTIES. NO BOYS. DON’T SET THE HOUSE ON FIRE UNLESS IT’S FUNNY.”  
He teases, pulling his coat back on and stepping out the door with an exaggerated little wave and wink.

Talon skitters over to the door, grabbing for him with just about the saddest look on his face, but the door closes and a mean laugh can be heard on the other side.

….

He stays at the door, hands pressed to it and a sad, anxious look on his face, staring up at the handle like waiting there will make HABIT come back faster.  
Vinnie watches this with raised eyebrows.  
It’s hard to imagine someone so genuinely upset that HABIT left. He likely won’t even be gone that long. This guy is just.. Insane. He’s like a puppy, sitting there waiting for him when he only just left.  
Wow. _Wow._

Vinnie…. Really wants nothing to do with this. This is all way too weird, and despite knowing what he knows, he still can’t really _trust_ the freak. Traumatized human or not, he eats people. This isn’t safe.  
He rubs his head, making more coffee and toast. He’s at least going to put off dealing with this for as long as he can.

An hour or two pass by, Vinnie finishing his breakfast and avoiding this situation by finding distractions on his phone.  
But eventually, he has to come to terms with the fact that, no, he can’t just spend all day in the kitchen. He should at _least_ make sure the weird guy isn’t causing messes he’ll be responsible for later.

He steps out into the living room, only to find Talon in the exact same spot as before, sitting at the door with his head down, leaning against it. He can sort of hear a weird, almost crying sound.  
…. Christ.  
He isn’t really sure how to approach this. It takes him a minute to gather his voice, and he has to clear his throat.  
“Have you.. Moved? At all?”  
Talon slowly looks over, jumping and trying to crumple in on himself the second he sees the camera, hiding his face and growling as loud as he can.  
He is crying, though.

Maybe it’s the tears, or maybe it’s the clear panic, or maybe it’s when he realizes he’s getting nowhere this way, but slowly, reluctantly, Vinnie sets the camera down, holding his hands up and stepping back as if it’s a loaded gun and this is a delicate operation.  
Maybe it is.

Talon stares at him for a good few moments, face still hidden, but after what feels like forever, he finally lowers his hands, instead fidgeting with the long hair that falls in front of his face.  
He sniffles.  
Vinnie frowns.  
On the one hand, he feels bad for the guy. On the other hand, he’s annoyed that he could miss something important.  
Deep breath.

“Sorry.”  
Talon doesn’t meet his eyes, but he gives a little nod.  
Vinnie’s quiet for a moment before continuing.  
“What are you doing?”  
He hesitates.  
-Waiting.-  
“For HABIT?? Why?”  
-I miss him.-  
“He’s been gone for like- two hours.”  
-I miss him.-  
The sniffling is back. Jesus _Christ,_ this is weird.  
“Are you just- gonna sit here all day??”  
-Until he’s back. Want him back-  
Sniff.

Vinnie sighs, rubbing underneath his glasses for a moment. This is impossible. But the poor guy is a fucking wreck. He looks small and sad and scared and it fucks with him just a little, no matter how monstrous and morally awful he may be.  
He gets up and leaves. He needs a breather.

….

It takes another hour or so for him to check again. Talon is still there, knees hugged to his chest, waiting at the door.  
He sounds like he’s whimpering.  
It’s both incredibly creepy and a little sad.  
He battles himself internally for a moment before doing what he does next. This is a stupid, dangerous idea, but maybe..?

He slips into HABIT’s room, taking the blanket from his bed and bringing it out. He’ll explain it wasn’t stolen later, maybe.  
He brings it out and hesitates for a moment before approaching Talon, and wordlessly draping it over his shoulders.

Talon looks up at him in confusion, but it melts away when he smells the blanket. It smells like HABIT. Instantly, he pulls the cloth tighter around himself.  
-.... Thank you.-  
Vinnie isn’t sure if he should feel disgusted or pleased that he helped.  
“Yeah, uh- don’t mention it.”  
He slides down the wall, sitting nearby, but still with what he considers a “safe” amount of distance.  
He deliberates to himself for a moment before starting to talk again.

“Why do you like having him around so much? Don’t you know who he is?”  
-Of course-  
He shifts under the blanket.  
-Spent a long time studying him. I just wanted to meet him. Fate-  
Vinnie grimaces.  
“Why him, though? I mean- he’s kind of an asshole?”  
-He understands. Knows what he has to do. Strong..-  
Talon is blushing a little, and Vinnie squints.  
Oh jesus.  
“So do you, like- have some kind of crush on him? Is that it?”  
Talon’s hands are still for a moment, and his blush grows.  
It takes a moment, but finally, he responds with a little nod.  
-For a long time. It is why I'm here.-  
“That’s why you took his stuff?”  
Another nod.  
-.... Don’t say anything. Please.-  
Vinnie snorts.  
“Pretty, uh- pretty sure he knows. I mean-”  
He leans back, thinking through the recent events.  
“ _Maybe_ not? Kinda weird, though. I don’t think i’ve ever seen him get this friendly with someone. He tried to pretend he was my friend, but- that’s different.”  
He scrunches his eyebrows. Ah, memories.  
“Sleeping with someone’s pretty new for him, at least from what i’ve seen. I have no idea if HABIT does _romance,_ but it seems like he likes you? At least a little? He has to, if he let you do that.”  
He looks over at Talon, who’s having trouble containing his smile.  
-.. You saw, huh? Was.. surprised. Did not mean to sleep. Just happened.-  
He fidgets with his hair again.  
-Has been nice, sort of. About what i need.-  
Fidget.  
-Know i am not helpful. Normal. Can’t remember. He does not hold it against me. Maybe is a game, but.. Don’t know. Don’t care. Appreciate-

The disjointed, barely structured way he talks just reminds Vinnie of what’s really at play, and he kind of just feels bad again. Freaky as all of this is, he can’t _really_ hold it against him either. It isn’t as if he’d be doing much better, if he spent a decade in the woods during some of his most developmental years.  
“.... Yeah. I don’t know. I haven’t noticed anything off, if it helps.”  
It might be a little concerning how willing he is to throw himself into danger. But Vinnie can’t really speak. They’re just two sides of the same coin in that regard, but Talon’s a lot crazier.

“Look- i don’t get what you see in him. He’s an insane asshole and he ruined a lot of people’s lives.”  
He glances at the camera. It’s off. He sighs.  
“But i did too. So- just- don’t fucking eat me, and i’ll give you pointers, i guess.”  
It’s a little gross, but it isn’t like it affects him. He’s bartering for his life with the exchange of being some sort of wingman between terrible freaks, but maybe, just maybe, if HABIT had something else to focus on, the attention would be shifted off of him. That idea is very attractive to Vinnie, who honestly just wants to live in peace and take all his horrible secrets to his grave. He’s done a lot to get here, and he’ll do more if he has to.

Talon’s full attention is on him, now, though, eyes wide.  
-You would do that?-  
He can’t keep the smile off his face at the idea. He looks so genuinely excited.  
-Can be good. I can be good.-  
He dips his head, and Vinnie grimaces once more.  
“.. Great.”  
He feels just marginally less like there’s a target on his back. Every minute of this is so much.

There’s still the matter, however, of HABIT not being back for a while. He doesn’t really want to leave this guy to sit here and be miserable for hours. As much as he creeps him out-  
“Here, uh-”  
He offers a hand, which is very scary to him, all things considered.  
Talon stares at him in blank confusion for a few minutes before finally hesitantly grabbing the hand. It’s night and day- Vinnie’s are large and warm, and Talon’s are spindly, bony, too thin and way too cold. Patches of the skin appear to be discolored, and the rest is almost ghostly. It doesn’t seem right, but Vinnie decides against commenting on it.

He tries lifting him upright. Talon is up for about five seconds before one of his legs seems to crumple beneath him like wet paper, falling awkwardly to the side and making Talon fall over- or at least, almost fall, had Vinnie not still been holding him up a bit.  
“.... Ohh-kay. We’ll just-”  
He lowers his hand and lets Talon crawl as he guides him back over to the couch, turning on the TV.  
“Just.. wait there a second.”  
He disappears for a while, and is back later with shitty instant hot chocolate. He chooses a seat as far away as possible, but he’s still at least somewhat pleased to watch the sort of pathetic man sipping on the warm drink, huddled in the blanket and not crying anymore.  
Mission success, he guesses.


End file.
